Thicker Than Water
by Ranger75
Summary: A collection of short, 1000 word vignettes delving into the relationship between Housecarl Lydia and Dovahkiin Marcus Octavian, from their rocky start to the end of their days.
1. Paving Stones

Lydia squinted through the sun, checking the woods surrounding Bannermist Tower for any sign of movement. Beside her, the Dovahkiin rolled the remains of four bandits down the nearby cliff face, depositing them in a gangly pile at the bottom. "Why do you do this every time?" Lydia asked, not even having to turn around to know what her Imperial companion was doing: after every battle, he would dispose of the bodies away from the scene of the killing, then produce a flask of oil and immolate the corpses with magic. He never asked for Lydia's help, and she never offered it. As Lydia waited for an answer, she heard the familiar sound of a fireball lazily dropping onto the bodies, eagerly devouring what was left of the bandits. "We're different from the Forsworn, Lydia," he said as he stepped beside her. "It seems unbecoming to simply leave their bodies to rot in the sun." Lydia flinched as she heard his voice, which always unnerved her. He spoke in a gentle baritone, a voice that revealed much more inflection than Lydia suspected a man of battle. "I usually just leave them where they fall," answered Lydia. The Dragonborn smiled when he heard her reply- he loved the sound of her voice, so sweet and determined at the same time. They stood in silence for a few seconds, watching a rabbit munch on a tuft of tundra cotton. "We killed four of them," said the Dragonborn, changing the subject. "But we saw six here last night, and there are six beds laid out." Lydia's eyes narrowed as she thought. "The one with the bounty isn't among the dead. We should set up camp inside for the night and hope the other two return."

"Agreed," said the Dovahkiin, stooping to pick up his pack. Truth be told, Lydia hadn't been too keen on being assigned as his Housecarl for the first few weeks, before he was the Dovahkiin, back when he was just Marcus the Imperial. It wasn't just that he was an Imperial outlander, he was also completely unknown to her. Most people who became a Thane spent years of service in the name of their Jarl, but Marcus had gained the title after less than a month in Whiterun. She would never forget the day when he and Irileth brushed past her at the Dragonreach door, covered in bluish-black blood and walking with the swagger that only came after a successful battle. Lydia was of course curious as to the nature of their fight, but it was not her place to approach the throne of the Jarl to satisfy her curiosity. She could hear bits and pieces of the conversation taking place from her spot near the door, and was surprised to hear her name. The Jarl summoned her, and she scurried up to his side, taking a knee as was proper. "Thane Marcus Octavian of Whiterun, I grant you Lydia as your personal Housecarl," the Jarl said as he tapped her shoulder with the flat of his blade. Lydia was glad she was kneeling, otherwise her face would have betrayed her shock. She was to be a Housecarl to this outsider? She had been a servant of the Jarl since she could hold a blade, and now she was given to a stranger? Lydia had hoped to be assigned to a patron of Clan Battle-Born or Clan Grey-Mane, and to gain honor and prestige. Now she was a servant of a stranger who did not even own property.

The snapping of twigs brought her back to the present, and she whirled around, blade at the ready. However, her face reddened when she realized that it was her that had made the noise. She hastily sheathed her weapon and retrieved her own pack, hoping that no one had seen her- it was not good for the reputation of a Housecarl to be in the business of startling yourself. From the window of Bannermist Tower, however, Marcus watched her, unseen by his Housecarl as she prepared to join him in their new temporary lodging. He frowned as Lydia, a battle-hardened veteran, snapped a twig and scared herself like a child. He thought about how she always seemed distracted around him, like her mind was wandering free. She had certainly been disappointed when she was given to be his Housecarl, he knew that much even though she had attempted to hide it. Marcus knew that he was an outsider to her, and that he had no great house or clan at his back- being made a life servant to such a person crushed her, and he saw it from the instant the Jarl touched her shoulder with his sword. Immediately after the meeting with the Jarl, Lydia dismissed herself to gather her belongings from the barracks at Dragonsreach. After only a moment's hesitation, Marcus called over Proventus Avenicci, steward to the Jarl. "Steward," he began in hushed tones, "You still owe me for delivering your daughter's sword. And saving your city from a dragon." Proventus rolled his eyes, gesturing to the bloodied armor of the Dovahkiin, "Can you at least wait until you're cleaned up to start calling in favors? What is so important that it has to be done while you're dripping blood everywhere?" Marcus replied curtly, "My Housecarl is hardly a Housecarl without a house. I need to secure the deed to Breezehome, and I need it furnished. If you could get me some leverage with the clans of the city that would be most appreciated too." The steward nodded sagely, his agile brain already working out a plan. "Yes… Yes, certainly. I'll have it done by tonight. But be sure that this makes us even, as they say."

"Guess we both need to stop daydreaming, huh?" said Lydia from behind him, rolling her eyes as they settled in to wait.


	2. Night Chill

Lydia sat with her back to the small fire they had built in Bannermist Tower, listening to the Dragonborn snore gently in his sleep. She had volunteered to take the first watch, being unable to sleep. The past was still on her mind, and how much had changed since she had met Marcus Octavian, climbed the 7000 Steps with him, and fought off numerous dragons by his side. The last thought made her smile, she had no idea that first group of dragons to reappear in a millennia would die by her hand! She knew that the bards would be singing of the heroes of this generation for ages to come, and she could still not believe that she was to be counted among them. Certainly, this surprise echoed the first night she had spent in the house of the Dragonborn, after she had been appointed his Housecarl. She had gathered her belongings, a meager sack full of equipment and clothes, and walked to the inn where she knew the Dragonborn to be renting a room. As she walked, she tried to straighten her face, mimicking her long shadow cast by the setting sun- regardless of how she felt, she reasoned, she was still a Housecarl and must honor her post to the best of her abilities. When she arrived at the inn, she pushed the doors open gently and walked over to the counter to speak to Ysolda, who Lydia suspected had a small crush on the Imperial foreigner and could point her to his location. However, when Lydia approached, Ysolda informed her that Marcus had already cleared out his room at the inn and had left instructions for her to meet him in front of Breezehome, a short walk away from the inn. Lydia nodded, slightly confused, and made her way to Breezehome. The sun was setting brilliantly by the time she arrived, casting the sky into a beautiful conflagration of orange, yellow, and red. As she approached, she noticed Marcus and Nazeem talking outside of the house. In addition, newly-planted flowers bobbed happily in the breeze outside. Confused, Lydia approached. "What is this?" she asked, knowing Breezehome to have been empty for several years. "Housecarl Lydia," Nazeem began in his usual business drone, "Your Thane has become the owner of Breezehome. The deed bears your name as well." Lydia's eyes widened, deeply surprised. Nazeem continued to outline what the Dragonborn had done, but it all amounted to one thing: in a single afternoon, he had built a house name for himself. Somehow, he had gotten the other great city clans to write him commendations, invite him to their harvest feasts, and had apparently restored Breezehome into its beauty. That day, as he presented her with all he had done, she knew that he was different, powerful. No one else she knew could have started the day as a landless wanderer and end it as a well-situated Thane.

Lydia smiled a bit at the memory, taking a whet stone to her knife to occupy her while she thought. Her eyes had fully adjusted to the dark, and she was sitting turned away from the fire so it was easy for her to pick out several dark shapes in the surrounding woods: a bat winding its way through the trees, a mouse breaking apart several mountain flowers to take back to a hidden nest. The Dragonborn stirred, and Lydia's eyes contracted painfully as she glanced across the fire to look at him. Marcus preferred to sleep in his armor, a practice that Lydia mirrored- especially when out in the semi-open like the pair were currently. Before they got ready for bed, Lydia had set up snares around the tower and secured the gate in case more than the expected two bandits showed up, but she didn't really expect any trouble. In any case, she and Marcus made a good team- he was fast, light on his feet, and more than able with a bow or short sword. Lydia, on the other hand, was a heavy-hitter, meting out huge amounts of destruction through sword-and-shield maneuvers or with heavier weapons. Neither of the pair utilized magic often in the field, but Marcus was talented enough to conjure up a fireball or two, and he usually took care of most minor wounds with a healing spell. However, both Marcus and Lydia found magic to be unreliable and difficult to control, and the pair disposed of most of their enemies through steel.

A sharp squeal brought Lydia back to her senses, a sound she recognized as the final call a rabbit made when taken down. Quickly and quietly ascending the damp wooden stairs, Lydia soon felt the rush of the cool night air on the rooftop of the tower. Stringing her bow with a kind of blunt wooden rod she used for warning shots or to scare away animals, Lydia scanned in a slow circle, seeking an answer to the sound. Sure enough, she soon spotted the glint of metal, a sign that one of her traps had been sprung. Lydia designed her traps so that the metal spur used to kill the animal was buried in the earth until sprung, meaning that even from a distance she could tell if a trap had been tripped. Loosening her bow, she was about to go back downstairs and wake Marcus for his watch when a flicker of light caught her eye. "Still time for a fight tonight," she murmured to herself, shivering slightly as another breeze slid by her. She continued to watch as the flicker grew into a small ball of light, and continued to grow larger, following the trail straight up to the tower. Frowning, she stomped her foot hard of the wooden floor, hoping it was enough to wake the Dragonborn but not too much as to scare the approaching figure. "Figures, actually," she thought- she could now make out another figure in addition to the first: it looked like their two bandits had decided to come back. One was tall and lean, more likely a male. His companion seemed to be a female, staying close. The light came from a torch the male was holding, Lydia could now see, but something else caught her eye: the pair were not only walking closely, but were holding hands as they approached. The two missing bandits were lovers. "Well," sighed Lydia, "This just got uncomfortable."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who has already reviewed or favorited this story, it really means a lot. I'd encourage you to check out some of the other stories on my profile, but this is the only one that I'm updating regularly as of now. However, if you really like another story of mine simply shoot me a message and I'll try to get out a few more chapters for you. Again, please feel free to give reviews or constructive criticism, it means a lot. Thanks!


	3. Sharp

Lydia continued to watch from the top of the tower, but the man and the woman had stopped their approach and seemed to be arguing over something the woman was holding. Lydia had gone downstairs to explain the situation to Marcus as soon as the couple had stopped, returning to the top of the tower as Marcus wound his way through the woods to intercept the two bandits. Though the night air was cold, a bead of sweat trailed down her face even as she shivered. Lydia was not nervous for herself, but for Marcus, even though she knew that two bandits were no match for the Dragonborn. Marcus had mentioned that he intended to take the two alive for questioning, and that made Lydia uneasy. From time to time the Dragonborn would try to disarm and capture a bandit for the local guards rather than simply killing them, usually if the bandit was a young woman and Marcus suspected that the girl "was just in over her head." Lydia suspected that his sense of chivalry was a bit dangerous, as the last time he tried to save a criminal she almost immediately grabbed a discarded dagger and made to stab Marcus in the neck, before being put down instantly by a merciless arrow from Lydia. The Nord Housecarl did not share Marcus' feelings about killing women, a point she often made known to her companion. Lydia hoped that the Dragonborn would simply dispatch the two and then they could return to Falkreath to claim the bounty on the man. "If it were all that simple," Lydia said to no one in particular as she kept watch on the still arguing pair.

Marcus could make out bits and pieces of the arguing couple's words, but he didn't let them distract him. He had come within a stone's throw from the two bandits, but he kept his blade sheathed. The Dragonborn knew that Lyida hated it when he tried to capture bandits, but he felt it especially hateful to kill one or both of the pair if they were actually in love, as Lydia had implied. The quarrel between the two had grown quieter, and Marcus crouched by the edge of the woods, mere feet away from the bandits. He could see that in addition to the torch the male was carrying, they each held a handle of a large chest between them, which is what Marcus suspected they were disagreeing over. Marcus winced and felt a bit of empathy, he and Lydia often argued over which loot they should take and which should be left behind. Suddenly, the Dragonborn shifted his weight, and a twig snapped beneath his foot. Two pairs of eyes immediately shifted to him, and the arguing stopped. "Well, here goes nothing," thought Marcus to himself as he emerged out of the woods and shouted the words he knew would end this fight before it started, "_Krii Lun Aus!"_

Even though Lydia was over a hundred yards away, she still heard and felt the effects of the Marked for Death shout. Her teeth instantly felt as blocks of ice, aching with such an intensity that she wanted nothing more than to drop her bow and pull them from her jaw. Her eyes burned, and she felt the will being sucked right out of her. She could hardly imagine the horrors of being subjected to the full force of the shout, and she knew that she would not be needed in this fight. She loosened her bowstring, rubbing her still aching jaw as she trudged back down to the ground level of the tower to await the Dragonborn, with the presumably terrified bandits in tow.


End file.
